


Universe

by grey_space



Series: Ineffable Idiots [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Apocalypse, but like only a tiny bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-28 04:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19805014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey_space/pseuds/grey_space
Summary: To Aziraphale, dining at the Ritz - or rather, dining in general - had always been enjoyable. Dining out was a wonderful thing in the angel's eyes; the impressive-looking, delicious food, the pleasant music, the ambient chatter of humans and of course, the high-quality alcohol. However, there had always been another reason for his particular affinity, that reason being the almost-constant presence of his demon counterpart.In which Crowley and Aziraphale are oblivious until they're not.





	Universe

**Author's Note:**

> i actually lowkey hate friends to lovers, but my best friend requested this so hey, what can you do? this hasnt been beta read. i actually only read through this once before posting, and i wrote it mostly late at night so the quality may not be astonishing but oh well. its kind of cliche and im not in love with it but i hope you can enjoy it nonetheless! this will be (if im able to commit to something for more than 2-3 parts) the start of an ineffable husbands oneshots series! so stick around if you want more of their complete and utter dumbassery. thank you for reading!

To Aziraphale, dining at the Ritz - or rather, dining in general - had always been enjoyable. Dining out was a wonderful thing in the angel's eyes; the impressive-looking, delicious food, the pleasant music, the ambient chatter of humans and of course, the high-quality alcohol. However, there had always been another reason for his particular affinity, that reason being the almost-constant presence of his demon counterpart.

Getting to enjoy a good meal while simultaneously being able to catch up with his best friend was always the highlight of his century, or decade, or year, or even (more recently) week. For the entirety of their 6-millennia-long friendship, Aziraphale felt as if Crowley was the only one who truly listened to, truly understood, him. This thought had always frightened the angel; after all, they were...how had he phrased it? ' _H_ _ereditary enemies'._

And even though Aziraphale knew that, after 6000 years of genuine companionship, they really did understand each other better than anyone else in the universe possibly could, it didn't stop him feeling incredibly anxious and uneasy about where him and Crowley truly stood in regards to their relationship. He was sure that the demon saw him as a close friend, that was obvious; it was Aziraphale's _own_ feelings that complicated things.

After the 1941 incident, the angel became 100% certain of his feelings towards the demon, and they were extremely far from where he had imagined Crowley's to be. He had realised that not only did the he care for the demon, the demon actually cared for him. Unfortunately for Aziraphale, not in the same way.

He wanted nothing more than to tell the demon that he was in love with him, nothing more than to take Crowley's permanently-smug face in his hands and just _kiss him_ for God's sake. After not-armageddon, when Crowley had treated him to possibly the loveliest lunch he had ever eaten, he almost had. It had taken all of the angel's willpower to not say anything; to not ruin everything they had built together over the course of 6000 years in one night. It had taken even more to simply tell Crowley 'goodnight' when it was time for them to part.

And now things felt different. Aziraphale couldn't specify exactly how they were different, but they were. The angel couldn't tell if he truly was noticing the small gestures and hidden smiles for the first time, or if he was simply imagining, hoping that they were there.

But now, as he walked through the tranquility of a clear-skied, moonlit St. James' park with the demon who he was supposed to see as a best friend, none of that mattered. Not for the moment, at least.

"You're usually the chatty one in this relationship, angel." Crowley stopped, pivoting back around on one tip-toed foot, having passed Aziraphale absentmindedly before noticing he had gone ahead of the angel. A light-hearted smirk played at his lips for a moment, quickly fading as he noticed Aziraphale's demeanour. He spoke more seriously this time. "Something on your mind?"

Maybe Aziraphale had gotten ahead of himself earlier. Seeing the demon's genuine expression and concern once again opened the flood gates, complicated, unhelpful emotions and speculation flowing back into the pit of his stomach. It definitely did matter.

"Not particularly- well, yes but- look, you don't have to answer this if it's too much or if I'm prying or- or anything along those lines, but..." the angel paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "When I visited you in the bar, after my bookshop supposedly bu-burned down..."

"Yes?" Crowley knitted his brows.

"Well, you said- you told me that you 'lost your best friend' and I was just- I was wondering what- or rather who you meant- as I said I am by no means trying to pry or make you uncomfortable I'm just- it's been bothering me and I haven't been able to get it out of-" the angel's barely-coherent, nervous babbling was cut off by a chuckle.

"Calm down, Aziraphale. Take a breath." Crowley shook his head, a fond smile threatening to break out across his lips. He sighed. "I've said it once before, and I'll say it again; for someone so clever, you are the biggest idiot I know, angel."

"I don't know what that means, Crowley!" Aziraphale snapped, Crowley's eyebrows raising slightly at the angel's quick emotional 180. "You- you always say things like that! And I'm going to be honest, it's part of the reason I am so confused all the time! Confused about you, confused about- about myself...about us."

"Us?" The demon echoed.

Aziraphale's breath hitched as he stumbled upon the reality of what he had just said. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, cursing his honest nature.

"No that's not- I'm sorry for that, Crowley. Please, just forget I said anything." The angel stuttered out, beginning to walk away, and while he was quick, the demon was quicker; grabbing the the other's wrist and halting his escape.

"Oh no you don't, angel."

"Crowley-"

"No. I want you to keep going. What did you mean 'us'?" His grip on Aziraphale's wrist softened, along with his voice, giving him a chance at escape if he really, truly did not want to have this discussion.

The angel let out a shaky breath. Was he willing to risk 6000 years of friendship? Good, real friendship? All for one selfish thought that had been in the back of his mind for a measly 50 or so years?

As much as he tried to will, to force himself to answer his own questions with a very assertive, definitive 'no', he couldn't. And so in a moment of blind faith in the great plan- no, the ineffable plan, he dived head first into his messy, complicated, painful and oh-so-human emotions.

"Exactly what I said, Crowley. Us. Not angel and demon, hereditary enemies, not friends who maybe meet up a few times in a century, just Crowley and Aziraphale. Us." The angel didn't know what he was saying, but he didn't care; he could already feel the ever-present tightness in his chest ease slightly; just for a moment, but it was there. And so he continued. "I mean to say...I don't like _not_ being around you. As much of a soft, pathetic excuse for an angel that makes me out to be, it's true. You...you've been one of the only, if not the only constant in my life, Crowley, for 6000 years. And yes, it took me a long time to realise and process my feelings, but at least now I can say this with certainty..."

The angel paused, taking a deep breath in, stabilising himself. Calming himself. Preparing himself to end the best friendship he had ever been blessed enough to be a part of. 

"I'm in love with you, Crowley." 

The soft, shattered tone of the angel's voice simultaneously broke the demon's heart, crushed it into a billion tiny particles, and put it together again, piece by piece. The emotional punch in the face he had just received rendered him silent, speechless, breathless for a number of moments, before he finally spoke up, only able to muster one word.

"Angel..."

Aziraphale's heart broke, too. He really had done it, he had destroyed their friendship, the one constant that he, no matter what, had welcomed with open arms for millennia. He had made the biggest mistake of his entire existence: not letting Crowley drift away from him naturally, but completely driving, chasing him away; as if the angel were right on his heels, bucket of holy water in hand.

The angel attempted a pathetic getaway, completely forgetting how to be anything other than a bumbling klutz - tripping over his own feet and stumbling twice. No miracles could save him from how utterly helpless, utterly human he felt in that moment. Crowley reacted immediately, reaching to grab Aziraphale's hand to stop him for the second time, but the angel was quicker.

And so, in an unthinking moment of desperation - the only coherent thought in his head being ' _I cannot let him go again' -_ he jumped forward, grabbing the angel by the waist and immediately falling to the ground. The angel, given no other choice in the current situation, fell too.

Crowley had landed on top of Aziraphale, his fall cushioned by the angel's soft body. The same could not be said for Aziraphale, who landed all but face first on the pavement of the park's main path.

It took them a moment to collect themselves; Aziraphale stayed put, his brain not giving him any support other than the constant circulation of the phrase 'oh dear' through his head. Crowley was not much different, only managing to elevate himself on his hands, hovering above the angel but not actually getting up.

"Aziraphale, look at me."

Silence.

"Aziraphale..."

The angel stiffened slightly, and Crowley could feel him giving in.

"...angel..." he all but whispered in the softest, most genuine voice he could manage. That's not to say he wasn't actually being genuine, he just wanted to get the angel to look at him.

Slowly, after a moment of awkward shuffling, Aziraphale turned to face the demon. He did note with some fondness that his glasses were gone, thrown aside somewhere presumably in the fall. They were wide and practically glowing in the soft moonlight, filled to the brim with a seemingly infinite amount of complicated emotions and unspoken words.

"I'm sorry." Aziraphale croaked out somewhat lamely, his eyes burning, threatening to water. He was afraid that if he were to raise his voice anymore, it would break and he would most certainly cry.

"Sorry? What the hell are you sorry for?" Crowley asked incredulously, shaking his head at the angel's foolishness.

"W-what do you mean 'what am I sorry for'? I ruined it, Crowley." The angel's voice rose, his eyes brimming with tears of frustration, heartbreak, embarrassment and love. A love that Aziraphale was certain could not be reciprocated.

"And what exactly was it that you ruined, angel?" Crowley's voice only got progressively softer as the angel became more agitated, shifting slightly and looking away from the demon's eyes. "Look at me. What did you ruin?"

"Everything! Us! The real us! The us that I was too- far too selfish to accept!" With this the angel sat up, pushing Crowley away and moving backwards, but making no real effort to stand.

"Who's to say what the real us is, angel?" The demon decided to try the angel's boundaries, inching a few centimetres closer. Aziraphale didn't react.

"That- that's what I'm talking about, Crowley! I don't know! And I absolutely _cannot bear_ that fact." Aziraphale's voice broke, trailing off at the end as a few stray droplets fell upon his cheeks.

"That's not fair." Crowley's eyes suddenly hardened, his jaw tensing slightly.

"W-what?" What do you mean? What's not- not fa-?"

"You, angel." The demon's tone of voice softened as soon as he realised the angel's rapidly increasing anxiety, quickly back-pedalling on the bitterness of his demeanour in fear of the untimely discorporation of his ethereal counterpart. "It's not fair that I've loved you for 6000 years and you're the one supposedly unsure about 'us'. It's not fair that you're so- so utterly honest about _everything, all the time._ It's not fair that you're simultaneously the most incredibly clever and infuriatingly stupid person - not, that's not right. Angel? Being? Oh whatever, it doesn't matter - I've ever met. It's not fair how inherently good and perfect and wonderful you are- how you're the closest thing to being genuinely heaven incarnate in this entire universe. It's not fair how completely oblivious you remain after 6000 years of 'friendship' - not only to my feelings, but your _own_ bloody feelings! It's not fair how much I...God..."

Crowley trails off into a sigh, the thick silence and tension of the void between them gripping the quiet sound and dispersing it through the bitterly cold, night air.

"My dear boy, I..." the angel began, trailing off as the demon shook his head lightly, a sad smile on his face.

"Don't apologise, angel. It's okay."

It was Aziraphale's turn to inch closer, cautiously reaching for Crowley's hand. The demon obliged, hesitant at first, before moving even closer to the angel - until they were nose-to-nose - and interlacing their fingers.

"I believe I may have been a bit of an old fool for quite some time now, but I do hope I'm not...misinterpreting anything here." Aziraphale chuckled nervously.

Crowley couldn't take the angel's utter obliviousness any longer, pressing his lips to Aziraphale's and closing the final distance between them.

The angel froze, unable to respond before the demon pulled away, leaving the ghost of his soft lips on his own.

"I-" Crowley attempted to speak, but no words came out. Aziraphale studied the demon's face, seeing hints of fear in the way that his eyes seemed to shift between Aziraphale's face and the scenery behind him, but also elation, in the way that the corners of his lips seemingly couldn't stop twitching upwards. And Aziraphale realised that he was staring at his lips far more than what would typically be deemed acceptable.

So, with nothing but selfish intentions littering his mind, he reached forward, gripping Crowley's collar in tightly-balled fists, this time pulling the demon to him.

Their lips met again, and it was sure; _they_ were sure. Much more so than they had ever been. Even if armageddon had come and gone in a matter of hours, even if they had almost lost everything dear to them (though one could argue that the prospect of almost losing one's best friend wouldn't quite equate to losing a shop full of purely material objects, Aziraphale did really love his books) and even if they had no clue what they would do with the rest of their lives, their freedom, they were sure. Sure that things would be okay, that even if the world were to almost end another 10 times over, that even if their respective superiors were to come after them with all the combined might of heaven and hell combined, they would be okay.

Aziraphale could feel more flashes of pure love emanating off of Crowley than any 'inherently loving' angel he had ever come across, and suddenly everything was so, so clear. How had he been so foolish as to not notice the complete, utter adoration that had, after 6 millennia, seemingly ingrained itself into the very essence of the demon's being? Some creature of love he was. But that didn't matter anymore. He was no longer fully an angel, just as Crowley was no longer fully a demon. Yes, there would always be physical reminders as to their inherent differences, but the mentality they had taken on of being on their own side, of being there purely for each other, mattered far more than the colour of their eyes or wings ever would.

They would be okay because in this moment they were together.

* * *

Aziraphale was not surprised when, the next morning, he woke to the feeling of another warm body wrapped around his own. The demon had wrapped his arms securely around the angel's waist, his head tucked away in the crook of his neck.

Aziraphale's lips turned upwards in a fond smile as he ran a hand through Crowley's hair. Hair that was, in his opinion, far softer than a demon's hair had any business being. This was most likely to be attested to the ungodly amount of conditioner he knew Crowley oh-so-loved to use. However, this did also contribute to his hair's constantly lovely scent, so he wasn't complaining.

The demon stirred, shuffling slightly in order to get even closer to the angel, even though, considering how close they already were, it was seemingly impossible.

"Good morning, dear." Aziraphale hummed quietly, turning his head and pressing a light kiss to Crowley's head. "Did you sleep well?"

"Hmm." Was all the demon could manage to muster. He hadn't felt this well-rested in a long while. Despite the fact that he technically was unable to dream, he had not been able to sleep decently for quite some time, but the comfortable warmth and reassuring aura of the angel seemed to remedy this within a single night.

The angel chuckled lightly at this, warmth filling his chest as Crowley let out an almost-hiss of contentment.

"I'll take that as a yes."

They lay together for what simultaneously felt like an instant and an eternity, a tangle of arms and legs and sheets; nothing warm breaths, reassuring words, loving glances and each other. Sharing kisses and laughs and finally feeling free. Free of the burden of having to pick a side and the burden of grappling and battling with one's feelings for far longer than what was even close to being necessary.

For the two of them, there was no real need for any 'I love you's or over-the-top romantic gestures that the humans seemed to love; they didn't need anything more than each other's presence as confirmation of this fact - a fact that they were both already very aware of. However, this didn't stop the two of them from repeating the phrase, over and over and over. Until it no longer sounded real, until it would have, in normal circumstances, lost all real meaning.

They lay content in their own world, completely forgetting about the past week, about armageddon, about Gabriel and Beelzebub and Heaven and Hell and the Great Plan and all of the things they had plagued themselves with anxiety over for the past 6000 years.

Because really, what need was there for them to be worrying about the world when they had already found their universe?


End file.
